


The Weight

by Fabrisse



Category: Kingsman (Movies)
Genre: Gen, Immediately after the church scene
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-20
Updated: 2016-09-20
Packaged: 2018-08-16 03:46:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 898
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8085826
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fabrisse/pseuds/Fabrisse
Summary: Harry's not dead.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Brumeier](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Brumeier/gifts).



> There **aren't** really graphic depictions of violence. But if you've seen the movie, then you have some idea of what Harry's injuries look like and that's not for the weak of stomach.
> 
> The prompt: Any, Any, 
> 
>  
> 
> _I pulled into Nazareth, I was feelin' about half past dead_  
>  _I just need some place where I can lay my head_  
>  _"Hey, mister, can you tell me where a man might find a bed?"_  
>  _He just grinned and shook my hand and, "No", was all he said_

He knew he had to wait until they were finally gone. They were amateurs, or at least Valentine was, and his sensitivities meant his goons were acting like amateurs, and he could only hope he was still enough that no one would wander back and put another shot in his head.

The day was warm, but he could feel the cold leeching into his body. If he waited much longer, the shock could kill him. There were small scavengers and predators who would be attracted by the blood and tissue. (He couldn't think brain, or maybe not having a whole brain was why he couldn't think, or maybe he was like Pooh, "A bear of very little brain"-- and, yes, this was shock and it could be deadly.) 

He started to move, or try to, when a line of cars went by, too much like a motorcade to be locals, unless it was a funeral, not his, not yet. That was the thing to hold on to. Where there's life there's hope, but the cold might take his hope and his life. 

He finally managed to move, like a baby, and roll himself onto his uninjured side. He dragged himself along slowly, constantly on the watch and finally, after what felt like hours, made it through the gate to the road. He'd tried to stand when he got to the gate, but that was beyond him now. There were no cars, not that he saw much of anything, but the only sound was water. He dragged himself toward it, a sprinkler in the grass in a yard. There was a leg in front of him.

"Bed. Help."

There was a scream. His hearing wasn't gone. He tried to reach for the leg, but there was another one, now. The foot was bigger; the voice deeper.

"You got a name, mister?" The American accent, so harsh when yelling about sin and evil, was soothing to him. 

"Call wizard. Say Harry." He couldn't make the words come out. 

"It'll take time, but I'll stay with you. Mary Lou's gone to get a blanket for you. She's bringin' the first aid kit."

"Bed?"

"No, sir, not here. We called the local ambulance. They'll take you. Closest big town is Clarksville, across the border into Tennessee, but they'll look after you. Sure you can't tell me your name?"

"Harry. Call wizard... name...call." He could feel tears running down his cheeks. "Church. Dead."

"I can't understand much you're saying. I'm Edwin. Ed, more like with you bein' so hurt."

There was a pack of wolves howling, and he tried to scramble away. His legs wouldn't work right, but there was a hand on his shoulder. "It's the sirens, is all, Harry. Don't know if that's your name or who you want me to call, but I gotta use some name." The hand stroked his shoulder soothingly, and he relaxed under it waiting while the howls came closer.

***  
There was a brace on his neck, and he was strapped down. He couldn't see anything at all. His own voice sounded muffled and distant. A woman's voice said, "We had to wrap you pretty good, Mister Potter."

"Pott...er?"

"Well, Ed said, you kept saying Harry and asking to call a wizard. We thought Harry Potter sounded better than John Doe, 'specially 'cause Ed thought you sounded like you were from _Downton Abbey._ I'm Gwen."

"Other wizard. Name... Can't ... No brain...Harry. Church?"

"The Sheriff took a look. They're far beyond my help or Beau's. Beau's up driving. We're taking you to Clarksville Memorial."

"Mon..."

"Mem-or-"

"...keys."

She had a nice laugh. "That's right. The Monkees sang about the _Last Train to Clarksville_. The more you can stay with me, talk, the better off you'll be. So keep saying anything you can."

"Phone. Chip. Valentine."

"I've been on call. Haven't had a chance to get one." Gwen called to the front. "Beau? You got one of them new chips from the Valentine company?"

"It seems you can only really make out thing nearby. Beau said that he didn't have time to get one either."

"Dead...ly."

"Yes, the people in the church are dead. It looks like you were attacked by one of them."

"Chips. Dead. Call wizard. Say Harry."

"Harry. It may be awhile before we can understand everything you're saying. Might've had some trouble even before someone shot you in the head. You don't talk like you're from around here. Now Ed, he said _Downton Abbey_ , but I'm a literature gal. I think you sound more like _Pride and Prejudice._ "

"Austen."

"That's good, Harry. I always liked Jane Austen. Of course, there aren't any wizards or anything."

"No. Wizard. Call him. Please."

"We'll see what we can find in your clothes at the hospital, Harry. I promise. We'll see if we can figure out how to call a wizard for you. We have another half hour before we get to the hospital, probably. Don't agitate yourself. You might make it worse. Do you understand."

"Yes. G...wen."

"That's right good."

He was here. Alive when he shouldn't be. Valentine didn't kill him, but he couldn't remember. He needed to call...

He went down the highway with a pack of wolves howling overhead and a Guinevere by his side. He was Galahad, and the world would end because the King had betrayed them.


End file.
